


I Love You, White Boy

by AnonymousHeavyIndustries



Series: Wham, Bam, Thank You WMAM [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal, Friends With Benefits, Interracial Relationship, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Sexual Gymnastics, Sexual Fantasy, Strength Kink, Teamwork, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousHeavyIndustries/pseuds/AnonymousHeavyIndustries
Summary: Being alone together is its own kind of comfort.Or; Rin tries to deal with the fact that Haru, of all people, got a boyfriend before he did.[Reading the previous work is nice, but not necessary.]





	I Love You, White Boy

Like many budding homos of the era, he got in with Leo. Not _Titanic_ , but Luhrman's _Romeo + Juliet_ cause Mama liked Shakespeare. Terrible Hawaiian print shirts, eyes that'd make the hardest cynic believe in love, petal-soft lips speaking the most beautifully incomprehensible English he'd ever heard, Rin was certain there was no man handsomer and no woman luckier than Claire Danes. He rewound the thousand times goodnight scene so many times the tape snapped and he almost cried, partially because he was afraid Mama would yell at him but mostly because he wouldn't be able to pause on the shots where Leo's face filled the screen and he could touch it and kiss it and get yelled at for leaving fingerprints on the TV when Mama came to watch her shows later.

 _Titanic_ came after, inevitably. Foreign flicks got little play in their neck of their woods, but it barged into local shops and earned a permanent place on the shelves of his heart. He recreated the scene on the bow with Gou, Kisumi, anybody who'd listen. He tried to get Sousuke to do it once, but Sousuke told him that was weird, so he didn't do it anymore after. To find upcoming roles, he weathered prolonged griping from shopkeeps when he sat in the aisle and read film magazines he never bought and for the older movies he couldn't find anywhere, he had a neighbour who had a cousin who had a friend at a military base in Okinawa that imported batches of American movies that he mail ordered from. Whenever that bleached American smile did appear on the boxes at the video store, he'd tug on his mother's sleeve, saying, "It's Leo, Mama, Leo!"

Next was Bruce Willis, courtesy of Sousuke and Mr Yamazaki's shared interest in action flicks, and by the time he'd gone to Australia, River Phoenix, Johnny Depp, and a host of other Americans had made the list. Australians were barely a blip on the global cultural radar, so it wasn't until he was up to the teeth in them that he realized that his interests weren't limited to Americans. Everything about them was so different to the world of men he'd known. Their attitudes, their physiques, their hair, even the geography of their faces fascinated him. Japanese men were plenty attractive, but there was just _something_ about white boys.

So yeah. Slap on them chaps and call him cowboy, cause he was on the white pony and he wasn't getting off any time soon. His friends wouldn't get it. They were all Japan, all the way.

Until they weren't.

That anyone in their pack besides him would go white was mindblowing, never mind it being traditional-as- _hanami_ Haru. Granted, Rin credited it to him having access he wouldn't otherwise have as an international competitor, but still, there was an ocean of Japanese swimmers he could've filtered through before ever considering "Al", as Haru called him—or, as Rin thought of him, Albert "double WR holder, confirmed Olympian, guy we have to beat for the gold Haru what the fuck are you doing" Wåhlander.

The difference in their dimensions slew him. Haru was on the taller side of average by Japanese standards, but Albert was just absurd next to him. Wingspan to hug a bus. Legs that'd shame a horse. Flawless v-taper. It pissed him off how precisely he was sculpted to rip the water, like he'd sprung fully formed from the head of the God of Swimmers and landed at the nearest poolside. No wonder "Al" had a rep for shattering swimmers' confidence; if he had an off day and saw that in the next lane over, he'd want to quit too. Or he would if Haru hadn't already razed and burnt his self-image years ago. They fit each other that way, two world-class destroyers as one sublime, soulcrushing unit, fucking up people's lives since 2004.

He tried not to talk about Albert if he could help it, but there were times when he cracked, masking it with queries about recent times and how long distance relationships with a language barrier managed. Haru was obliging with details, driving inertia to teeth that ate within, giving turbulence to thoughts that had long been settled. He didn't want to hear how the first few weeks of their communication consisted of elementary-level Japanese and emoji. He didn't want to see the gorgeous photos of Sweden Albert sent in his downtime. He didn't want to know about the trinkets they mailed each other.

(He did want it, desperately. Every exquisite, agonizing scrap.)

Long before he entered the world circuit, he knew there were sacrifices to be made. Waking up at five AM to get his ass kicked at practice and eating through the same maddening cycle of nutritionally precise meals had been part of his life so long he didn't know how he'd function without them, but having to set aside an entire facet of his life irked him. Most of his teammates didn't have girlfriends, but they could at least try. He was competing for Japan and competing for Japan meant not embarrassing Japan, so he folded that part of himself into a tidy envelope and placed it in a time capsule marked: **DO NOT OPEN BEFORE 2020!!** and put it down with the dead and the worms and all that unfit for surface dwelling.

There had been encounters. His first, an American boy named Mark at a party after a competition. He wasn't a swimmer, just a friend of a teammate visiting the country on holiday. Everyone was dead drunk on the floor but it hadn't gone any further than cuddling, which Rin didn't mind. He, having been bit by the goon himself, pressed his finger to Mark's cheek, counting his freckles til he couldn't fend off sleep any longer. By the time he woke, Mark had already gone and he was too embarrassed to ask his teammate for his number. There was lunch at a sports bar with a team from Victoria whose vice captain sat real close and stroked his thigh and told him how cute he was when the others went to play darts. (He had a girlfriend and was 'only curious'.) Looks he got from certain swimmers that neither of them had the courage to pursue. And then, That.

Kissing Isidor Maksimov in the locker room last summer.

Isidor couldn't speak English beyond saying hello and asking for cigarettes or coffee, but he held eternity in his lips, promised impossible things with his touch. Fingers snarled in his hair, the hot, bitter taste of nicotine, a low voice calling him _krasavchik_ , which he didn't understand, but it made him feel good as being dressed for a night on the town instead of raggedy-haired and exhausted and stinking of chlorine. He didn't care about the dial lock biting into his back, the calls of his teammates saying that the bus was coming in five, only Isidior's lips, his tongue, his hands sliding down the curves of his suit. He would've stayed there forever, even if it meant being stranded in Perth, were it not for the encroaching slap of wet feet on the concrete.

Isidor hastily wrote his number on Rin's forearm in permanent marker, kissed him again on both cheeks, and went to the other side of the lockers to join his team. His own team found him changing in a daze and hauled him to the bus pickup in time for the coach to give him a lengthy redfaced lecture that he barely heard. He was later told he looked stupid giddy the whole way home, despite placing third. They sent each other one text, verifying they had the right number, then Rin's phone died and it was all dark all the way home. He plugged it in and went to bed, imagining everything he would tell him tomorrow.

Isidor cracked his head falling down a flight of stairs shortly after arriving in Russia and dropped into a coma he hadn't rose from since. There were rumours his teammates were involved.

Rin kept the number on his arm until it faded on its own.

Haru knew these things and still he wasn't careful. Haru knew, and still he gallivanted around with a world champion, not caring he could blow up his career before it started. It drove him insane.

Rin threw his bag on the floor and sank into the couch. He reached for the remote and turned the TV on for the sake of having some noise. He'd never thought he'd miss living in a dorm. There was always something going on. Study sessions, coaching underclassmen, hot dog eating contests that ended with him concluding it was a shame Sousuke wasn't gay cause boy, he could suck down some meat. There weren't the long yawning voids of solo life where his brain was all too eager to fill the space with shit he didn't need to be thinking about.

He checked his phone. Makoto was probably at work. Sousuke had a PT session tonight and always got pissy when people tried talking to him after those. Haru he didn't want to deal with. He sighed. Letters littered the table, demanding attention. Pages of notes from his coach that had to be reviewed for tomorrow. Dinner needed cooking, never mind that fearsome craving for pizza. Everything ached.

He swiped into his image gallery, delving into the subfolder innocuously named International. Row after row of foreign men in various states of undress awaited. He pushed down his waistband. At least one part of him still worked.

Fade In: Int. Gym Locker Room - Dusk.

Blond. Green eyes. Standing one-eighty-six with a cock like a Coke bottle. Michael. The name of an angel. Michael—call me Mike—pressed him up against the wall. He was big, but not roided up. Solid, how he liked it.

"Looks like you could use some company." His hand curved around Rin's hip, tracing his lower abs.

"You're looking kinda lonesome yourself."

Rin planted his hands in the middle of Mike's chest and shoved him towards a bench in the middle of the room. He got a kick out of it, throwing himself against something bigger, feeling it squirm. He shoved again, sending Mike assfirst onto the bench, and dropped into his lap.

"Poor little white boy. You have no idea what I'm going to do to you."

They didn't bother undressing, their clothes were already gone. He wrapped his legs around Mike, capturing his overwhelming mass between his thighs. It got a little smile, thinking he's being cute—that instantly flipped when he locked in. His quads shook, burned, struggling against Mike's swelling ribcage, squeezing him breathless. Their hands knotted together, arms twisting and winding and jerking, trying to outmuscle each other where they sat. Mike eased up, then crushed him close.

Their noses brushed against each other, the heat of their mouths mingling in the finger's breadth between them. Mike's eyes were so green it hurt. He didn't know why, but they were so green it fucked him up inside. He yielded. Victory was sealed with a kiss, coaxing moans from depths Rin barely knew existed. Mike tightened his grip, fusing their skin together, riding that hairline of good hurt and god, he could just about cum from that. Squeezed til he popped.

They lingered kissing a while. There would be no intrusions. They could take as long as they wanted. Rin grabbed their cocks and swirled his thumb across their heads, wrenching a groan out of them both. Mike broke the kiss, replacing his mouth with the fat pink wetness of his tongue, coiling across his chin, lapping up the sigh that slid past his lips. Rin growled, biting cheeks, jaw, neck, shoulder, demanding, _Put it in me. Gimmie your dick._

Rough fingertips pressed to his hole. There it was. This was what he wanted. Rin rode his grip, ass flexing, trying to get more of that finger, bury it in him and fuck him up good, ride it down to the knuckle and then some—but it only teased. Hunger smouldered in his gut like a hot coal, flaring with each tap and stroke, surging when the pressure increased closer closer _close_ but never enough to breach even though he needed it, needed it now, needed it more than air or food or life itself, a finger, a cock, anything that would complete him. He grabbed at his hands, bounced against him, stubbornly tried to force the finger deep, cursing, begging, pleading _fuck me fuck my ass_ and Mike only laughed, devouring his complaints in kisses, stripping everything else away, leaving nothing but this, his dick, his ass, his man.

In the corner of his eye, movement. Rin looked. Albert carried Haru as if he weighed nothing, sweet-talking him in Swedish as his dick sawed in and out of his ass. He pried Haru's cheeks apart so Rin could see his thick, meaty cock pumping into him, those heavy balls swinging between toned thighs. Haru'd lost his cool, reduced to clutching Albert's neck, huffing and drooling and squirming, hole swollen fuckme pink, shuddering as Albert pressed his mouth to his shoulder with a groan, cum gushing, a few extra thrusts, cock slicked white, and he wanted that, wanted that cock inside him, wanted to be the one getting creampied by a pretty white boy, fuck—

Rin lost it, kicking into the couch as cum pumped over his fist, ran down his knuckles. His hand jerked down, letting the next shots streak his chest. He arched into his fist, cock straining out the last few drops before the rush subsided and he collapsed on the couch. He stared at his hand, certain he was fucked.

—

He wrapped up the "Hot Guys I Saw at the Gym" section of his weekly phone call to Haru with a newcomer, a blue-eyed Kiwi who had complimented him on his OHP form. Buzzed black hair, weatherbeaten face. He played rugby, hooker, and had the form for it. Plus he had huge nuts. He didn't say that part to Haru, but he did. Like smuggling a grapefruit down his daks.

Haru considered his description. "You really like white guys."

"Why do you have to say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I have a problem."

"I never said it was a problem."

"Good, cause it's not." The silence deafened. "I saw a cute Latino on Bondi once. There's a bunch of Japanese guys here too, but they kinda stick around their own neighbourhoods."

"Okay."

"And if it seems like I'm singling out white guys, it's only cause I'm around them a lot more for now. When I come home, I'll find a nice guy there."

"Okay."

"And it's not weird if I like foreign guys anyway."

"I didn't say that either."

Telling Haru his preferences was easy, having them acknowledged unprompted was embarrassing in ways that made no sense. Maybe because it was Haru. If it was Sousuke, he'd be fine with getting his balls busted over it since he could lob his thing about girls with painted nails back at him, but as far as he knew, Haru didn't have a type and didn't care about anybody else's.

God help him if he found out what he preferred downstairs. He couldn't survive Haru casually saying, "You really like big dicks, huh?"

"I saw Albert got confirmed for the Swedish team." He didn't mean to say that. He'd managed to go a week without thinking about him.

"Yeah." Rin could hear the faintest edge of a smile in his voice. "He was happy."

"Tell him congrats on my behalf."

"I will."

"Better hurry and get your times straight or else you won't see him in London."

"Worry about your own."

"Mine are fucking awesome and you know it."

"Sousuke said he'd be the one swimming fly for the relay at the rate he's recovering."

"I'll put his sorry ass in the Paralympics if he thinks he can take my place. You're free. I'm fly. Period. You can tell him that."

"I'll pass it on."

Across the empty room glowed a drably-lit freezeframe of a knife pressed to a wedding band. Even the soldier wouldn't import this one for him, though he'd never known why until tonight. "How's next semester looking?"

Haru went into a slow rundown of his upcoming classes. Rin muted the movie and pressed play. The knife plunged into David Thewlis' palm and Rin heard nothing, only phonecalls in his mind between Haru and Albert, where they talked as lovers did and never worried about anything but each other.

—

Rin stared at the rows of immaculate Christmas cakes, loathing the Swedish government. What he'd meant as a five minute curiosity detour became a headlong dive into a rabbithole of news articles featuring couples in suits and bowties holding hands, embracing, kissing, their rings ever prominent proof that this was real, this couldn't be denied.

**SAME-SEX MARRIAGE NOW LEGAL IN SWEDEN.**

The only thing that saved him from wallowing in bed the rest of the night was that Ma asked him to pick up the cake, allowing him the novel pleasure of wallowing in public. The line was full of other last-minute shoppers impatient to get back to their parties, alternating glances between their phones and the glass display case. Alongside the full cakes sat prepackaged couples' slices that revealed the internal strata. Pillows of yellow spongecake and whipped cream frosting light as heaven itself studded through with strawberries. It was the kind of thing that almost made him wish he had the stomach for sweets. He could never take more than a bite before his body revolted, demanding he stop.

"Rin?"

He turned and lo, there was the thorn in his side. They wore matching hand-knit hats featuring geometric patterns in blue and white and through the crack at the top of their coats, he could see their sweaters matched too. Their gloves hid their fingers. At first, he thought them a hallucination, neurotic self-torture, then Albert clasped him in a hearty embrace that had him eating shoulder.

 _"Hello!_ " Albert boomed, _"Merry Christmas!"_

Rin freed his mouth from the heavy wool seam and wormed his arms around him, hoping to make this as painless as possible. _"Hey, Merry Christmas."_

Albert released him, frowning. _"Is it not good? Haru says the Japanese aren't fond of hugs, but you've lived elsewhere, so..."_

 _"No, it's fine. I was surprised."_ He straightened the end of his scarf and swapped to Japanese. "Shouldn't he be in Sweden?"

"He showed up at my apartment a couple days ago and said he wanted to take me home for the holidays," Haru said, remagnetized to Albert's side.

"What is he, me?"

Albert laughed. _"He told me about that. I wanted him to meet my family, but he already had plans for New Year's with his friend, so I decided to stay."_

They were that serious? A jump from Japan to Australia wouldn't kill your wallet, but Japan to Sweden would have most students subsisting on cup noodles for a few months. _"That's nice of you."_

 _"Come eat with us."_ Albert dropped his arm around Haru's shoulder.

Sour spit welled in Rin's mouth. _"Thanks, but I couldn't possibly intrude."_

Albert and Haru exchanged a look and began conversing in rambling Swedish. Rin's eyes bugged out of his head. Haru, who barely missed failing English every time he took it, who wouldn't even attempt to learn basic small talk to navigate around the countries they visited for tournaments, who refused to respond to anyone in anything but in Japanese, had bothered to learn _Swedish?_

"What the fuck, you won't practice English with me, but you'll learn a language from the ground up for him?"

"I don't practice with you because you're annoying about it."

"It's good for your career! You can't do anything with Swedish. Even Chinese would be better."

"I don't want to learn Chinese. I want to learn Swedish."

White dick was truly a force to be reckoned with.

The line advanced and Rin pointed at the cake Ma asked for. He studied the two of them as it was packed up. Haru looked comfy under Albert's arm, content to let his head rest against his side. His hand was buried in Albert's coat pocket, turning over coins, rifling through receipts and gum wrappers and the other minutiae that accrued in pockets over time, uninterested in dissecting its contents, only feeling the little things that made Albert himself. Albert toyed with the fringe of Haru's scarf, idly making twists and plaits.

Rin dug a nail into his thumb, looking around the crowded shop. There were eyes on them. Haru, they knew. Everybody knew Haru, even if it was only as that boy who tried to climb into the fishtanks at DolphinS. But Albert was something else. There would be talk about it, this huge foreign stranger come to visit a backwater town that offered nothing for tourists, no reason for anyone to visit on a whim. He'd come for Haru, and from there, the leap was short, inevitable.

An older women who sold fish at market recognized Haru. "Who's this strapping young man, Nanase? A friend of yours?"

Haru gave one of his rare smiles and Rin wondered if he'd still be smiling when the police found him broken on the shrine steps and called it an accident.

"This is Albert. He's—"

The cake was ready. Rin threw the money on the counter and left.

He slogged through the snow, crushing paired footprints beneath his boots. Around him, windows were lit gold. Families and celebrating couples moved as shadows on the blinds. He tucked his head down, focusing on his feet dividing the powder. Albert should have never come to Japan and if he had to, then Haru should've never met him. He wanted things to go back to how they were before, when they could float through this shared private world alone, together.

The Matsuoka nameplate loomed in his vision. He paused at the door, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He knew he was being unfair. It was good for Haru to have someone like that in his life. Someone he could spend forever with. He was happy for him. Kinda.

He kicked off his shoes the instant he walked in the door, satisfied to hear them thump off the shoe rack.

"What's wrong?" Ma asked, coming to the door.

"Nothing."

"That's not a nothing face."

He shrugged, tucking his chin into his scarf. "I found out my friend is having a Christmas date is all. He seems like he's having fun."

"I thought Makoto told you he was taking Gou out weeks ago."

"Not him, Haru. His," he still struggled to say these things above a whisper, "boyfriend from overseas came to spend the holidays with him."

Ma hummed, knowing. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not like I'm jealous or anything, it's, I dunno. A bummer." He scuffed his toe along the floor. "I'm just being an asshole."

"You're not." She hugged him. "Come watch a movie with me, I'll make you some tea."

He buried his nose in her shoulder, inhaling the fading wisps of rosewater in her perfume. He didn't know how she could stand not having Dad around, only pictures and a shrine and a few old shirts that still hung in the closet.

There was a series of patient knocks at the door. Rin opened the door and saw the couple of the hour gawking back at him.

"You left your change." Haru pressed the coins into his palm.

"Hello, ma'am, do you mind if we lend Rin?" Albert asked in bizarre, stretched taffy Japanese.

"Borrow," Haru cut in, adding, "We cooked too much."

"I don't mind if you don't."

Rin backed up, stepping out of the _genkan_ to safer ground. "Don't. Go have your date."

Albert stooped through the door and hoisted Rin over his shoulder, ignoring his shouting. "We will have him back tonight, perhaps?"

Ma took the cake with a smile. "Keep him as long as you want."

Rin tried wriggling free, but Albert's grip was solid. Haru picked up his shoes and they went out into the evening.

By the time they made it to the end of the street, he had half a mind to crack an elbow against Albert's head. He didn't care if Haru never forgave him. "Put me down."

"You'll run away." Haru swiped his thumb under Rin's nose and wiped it on his jacket. "You're snotting everywhere."

"It's cold, what do you expect?" He sniffed, grimacing at the splotch of mucus now adorning his sleeve. "Why?"

"Because we wanted to."

"'We' or 'you'?"

"We." Albert patted him on the back. "It was fortunate to have seen you. I have... ah, how you say? It escapes me."

It was the roundness of it that weirded him out, he decided. He was used to Australian amateurs putting wrong stresses on accents, fumbling on rs and _tsu_ s. Basic stuff. This was adding sounds that didn't exist. Not in Japanese, not in English, not in anything that sounded like a real language. It wasn't an easy language to learn, according to any non-native speaker he'd met, even among those who were fluent in four or five. It demanded a goal worth the struggle.

Unable to figure out the appropriate phrase, Albert carried on, " _He talks about you. I want to know the people important to him. So it's good to meet you again._ "

 _"And scoping out the competition, doesn't hurt, huh?_ _"_

_"I try not to worry too much about swimming when I'm not swimming."_

_"Easy to say that when you're a double world-record holder."_

Albert gave a slight pained laugh. _"It's nothing special. I swim. It's what I do. Same as you, same as Haru."_

"Nothing special," Rin said, shaking his head. "'Yeah, I'm an Olympic competitor with two world records, but, you know, nothing special.' Fuck, just put him in your family registry, he's Japanese already."

 

They made a place for him, laying out tableware decorated with sprawling chrysanthemums, one blossomed, one yet to bloom, and went to finish the last of the cooking. When they sat to eat, there was scarcely room to move their hands on the table, it was so full. Briny, pungent pickled herring served alongside hardboiled eggs, cabbage rolls stuffed to bursting with minced pork and drizzled in lingonberry jam, creamy potato casserole crowned browngold, and fresh bread alongside fried chicken, homemade pickles, and warm sake. The table steamed with nostalgia for a country he'd never known, and every time he thought there couldn't be more, another course arrived. Rin resigned himself to the meal, promising he'd leave as soon as dessert was served. Nobody said much, instead preoccupying themselves watching some Swedish-dubbed Disney medley on Al's laptop, discomfort flitting around them like a mouse in a ballroom. They wouldn't acknowledge his souring of the mood, only offer a little more sake and wait for the problem to correct itself.

With full stomachs and mouths fragrant with oil and sauce, supper wound down. Rin wiped his hands clean and laid down his chopsticks, trying to figure the most graceful way to make his exit.

 _"What's wrong?"_ Albert asked as Haru cleared the table. _"You've looked troubled all night."_

Rin glanced off at the TV. _"I'm a bit under the weather, sorry."_

"Rin." Haru stood at the sink, emptying the remaining dregs of sake into the drain. "Be honest."

"This! All of this!" He gestured at them. "This is supposed to be your special night and I'm ruining it."

Haru snorted, lip quirking in that particular Haru way, and picked up Rin's tableware.

"Don't smirk at me."

"Don't be melodramatic." He relayed what Rin assumed was an abbreviated version to Albert, who nodded.

_"Haru's told me a lot about you. He said you have certain interests."_

"Do you want to sleep with us?"

If his ears weren't broke, he'd lost his mind. "Beg pardon?"

"You like white guys. I have a white guy. Do you want to sleep with him?"

Rin sputtered, heat flooding his face. Sometimes he wondered if Haru had any idea that the things that came out of his mouth were insane.

"Yes or no? It's okay if you don't want to."

"That's not something you spring on a guy out of the blue, Haru!" He attempted to get up but the absurdity had turned his legs to lead. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Haru shrugged. "It would if it was some stranger. But it's you. So I don't mind."

"Doesn't that bother him?"

"Not at all." Albert took Rin's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over back of it. His hand was warm as a blessing, as Isidor's had been. _"We'll have dessert and then you decide."_

Haru returned with cake. Albert cut into his piece and guided it into Haru's mouth, wiping frosting from his lip with a smile. Rin prodded at his slice. It was thin, enough to get a taste of what they had. Even small as it was, he knew it ran the risk of being too much. Haru watched him from across the table. His gaze fell to Rin's plate, questioning. Did he not want it?

Rin sank the edge of his fork into the middle, scooping out cake, frosting, and the strawberry between.

 

Prepping at home had never been unsettling. It was part of a routine, a chore to make things easier before he could enjoy himself, same as stretching before a swim. Doing it here, in Haru's bathroom, with Haru under the shower spray as if he couldn't see it, hear it, had his stomach in knots. He'd done as much as he could in the toilet, but there was so little room that his preferred amount of manoeuvering was difficult. The anal dilator, courtesy explanation-free of his hosts sat within him, filling but not uncomfortable.

Rin let his chin sink to his knee. Haru sat serene across from him in the tub, eyes closed, head dropped back. Dreaming, perhaps. Thinking. Awfully calm for a guy who was letting someone fuck his boyfriend. He didn't understand what Haru got out of it, what role he was playing in this. Observer? He didn't take him for a closet voyeur, but he also hadn't taken him as gay and look where that got him. Participant? Well. He couldn't say he'd never thought about it when he was young and homesick and the majority of his imagination was reserved to Guys I Want to Kiss A Lot (And Maybe See Their Dick). It didn't seem like Haru was opposed to the idea either. When his hands had been too slick to put the dilator in, Haru came up without a word and did it for him, as if it was mundane as picking a stray hair off his shirt.

He turned his head, scrubbing at his palms under the water. "When are we leaving?"

"Whenever you're ready."

He remained. The water turned lukewarm. The longer he sat, the heavier dread pressed on his skull. Every horrible thing that could happen. Every way he could embarrass himself. Rewind. Repeat. If it was some random guy, some Bazza he picked up at the beach, and he flubbed hard, that was a failure he could tolerate. These were two of his biggest competitors. If they couldn't take him seriously in bed, they couldn't take him seriously in the water either.

"Have you guys done it before?" The air felt better for lack of silence.

"Yeah."

Had this always been Haru's idea of rolling out the welcome wagon? Welcome, honoured guest, the condoms are by the door and the orgy will be starting shortly. "How big is he?"

Haru thought about it, then measured a gap of about eighteen centimetres between his hands and a diameter that made him sweat.

"Is that a joke?"

"Scared?"

"No!"

"You're not going to cry, are you?"

"Fuck off." He swatted a wave of water at Haru's face, but Haru took it unblinking. "Did it hurt?"

"It took getting used to, but it wasn't painful." Haru traced an outline in the water around Rin's knee. "I wouldn't let him do anything that hurt you."

"He didn't seem the type anyway."

"He's not." Haru went quiet for a while. "I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"Don't try and act cool." Rin flicked more water at him.

"If they tried, I'd make them regret it."

Only Haru could say shit that stupid with a dead straight face. Rin laughed. "Okay, Hulk. I expect to see you powerbombing some Russians at our next meet."

Haru nodded, already in a deep crevice of his imagination, spattering grey matter in the fourth lane.

"Do you even know what that is?"

"I can do it," Haru insisted, and Rin laughed again, more hesitant. It was hard to tell when Haru was joking or not. He didn't think he was.

Sousuke he expected that from. They'd thrown hands for each other about as many times as they'd thrown them at each other. Haru was Haru. He should be talking about the sentience of water and carving weird figures nobody wanted, not brawling at the poolside—or loaning his boyfriend, for that matter.

Rin climbed out of the tub and went to the mirror to check his teeth, praying Haru would stay put. "You know there's no pools in prison."

Of course he got out, damn his eyes. His hand rose goosebumps where it laid on Rin's back.

"I know."

 

For all he'd seen, it wasn't enough. No amount of blurry camcorder videos from the nosebleed seats of swim meets around the world, no collage of bloated 5000 x 3000px magazine scans and poolside creepshots archived on fansites he could barely navigate, not even having met him dressed and in person could do him justice. It was the kind of body that demanded to be seen up close, in motion. Exquisite definition, in spite of his paleness. Remarkable ab symmetry, well-formed biceps and triceps, lats that would make even Makoto jealous, every line of his musculature laser precise. Veins traced ghost blue under his skin, adding an air of fragility to his mass. His cock hung unassuming, thatched in a fine growth of blond hairs.

Albert set his phone aside and stood. It wasn't often he met guys that tall, even in Australia. Albert's eyes roamed over him in the soft, unhurried way Haru's did when he studied a potential subject, imagining how best his brush could awaken its glory. Rin stepped up to him, meeting his gaze dead on. If he thought he was gonna call the shots just cause he had the height advantage, he'd best think again.

Haru came up behind Rin, playing his fingers across his abs. The touch moved lower, working the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, knuckles ghosting past his balls in a way that got his cock lurching to life in a split second. He flexed his cock, revelling in the power of it, the raw potential in its tip. Haru pushed himself closer with a pleased, throaty grunt. Rin broke into a shiteater's grin, chest swelling. _You like me, white boy? Your boyfriend likes me too._

Albert advanced, crushing him against Haru. Rin's neck strained upward, shallowing his breath. _"You think you can take us both on?"_

_"Both of you isn't enough, Mr Wåhlander."_

Excitement ripped up Rin's arms as he shoved, winning back a few steps. His cock throbbed as he lunged forward, driving his palms into Albert's shoulders. The Swede reeled towards the bed with an incomprehensible curse. Rin pounced. Albert's head snapped back against the mattress, flicking his thick, messy bangs out of his face. Blond eyelashes. Pretty.

"Haruka, your friend is very aggressive," Albert mused, glancing towards the hands pinning his wrists. He didn't seem worried. "And Al is fine."

Rin guided Al's hand to his cock, groaning as his thick fingers wrapped around it. He jerked his hips a few times, trying to encourage him to do what needed to be done, and Al carried on with hearty strokes, squeezing beads of pre out of his cockhole. Rin brought his hand down in an almighty slap, leaving a bright red imprint on Al's pec. He slapped him again, bounced him against the mattress. Poor, precious white boy. Didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He'd waited years for this, pressurizing desire and pushing it aside, and now it was here, alive and willing and ready. Every man he'd wanted but couldn't have, every idle thought that had to be extracted alone in the showers after a meet, every urge to feel the weight of a body against his own, everything a stupid lonely virgin could ever dream of and Al getting the brunt of it. He squeezed Al's jaw, forcing his mouth open. Immaculate teeth, muscular tongue, gums pink as could be. It'd look awful sweet with his cock in it.

The millisecond before he was airborne, he felt the subtle curve of Al's toes against his stomach, the huge warmth of his hands on his chest. His wheeze echoed in his ears as he tumbled into Haru's arms. He only got a moment to realize he'd flown near across the entire room before he was hauled to his feet.

"Nice body. Strong. I like it." Al smiled as he swiftly crossed the room, then hoisted him by the waist and turned him head over heels.

"Haru! Haru, what is he doing!?" Rin shouted, hands fumbling at Al's thighs.

 _"No kicking, no kicking."_ Al readjusted his grip. _"Hold on. Tell me when you're tired."_

Desperate to not break his neck, Rin's arms shot around Al's waist. Haru knelt at his side, winding his hand between them to prop Al's cock to his lips.

"Seriously?"

Haru smiled, indicating he was, in fact, serious.

Delicious heat swallowed his cock and Rin narrowly avoided killing himself by redirecting his reflex kick to the airspace north of Al's head rather than straight into it. He floundered there a moment, then locked his ankles around one another, forced them to stay still, and thrust into that warm, encompassing mouth. Blood rushed into his head, heating his cheeks, getting him giddy. He laughed, enjoying the crisp tickle of cockhair against his lips. This was fucking dumb. It couldn't be anything but with them. He gripped Al's waist, one hand at a time, and pushed himself higher. His arms bulged under the strain, popping veins into stark relief against his skin.

"Can you do that, Haru?" he queried, leering down. He drove his legs inward, pulling Al into him. "Are you strong enough? Maybe you should do some push-ups." He fucked into him hard, twice, to emphasize his point.

He sank back into his original position, face flushed hot red, breathing deep and steady til enough strength had come back into his arms. He wriggled up, ensuring his thighs had adequate purchase on Al's shoulders, then swung his arms into sit-up position and reared back like a cobra, sticking his tongue out at Haru. Fire roared in his abdomen. His breath juddered, ribs shook. He held the pose for a few seconds, then dropped back down in another laughing fit.

Haru, apparently unimpressed, guided the soft cock to Rin's mouth once more. Rin licked his chops and opened wide, taking the head between his lips, letting his tongue roll along his foreskin. The cock warmed quickly, expanding, filling out his mouth. The tang of it was a wonder on his tongue. He couldn't settle for a dildo after this, it was so much better to have the real thing. He closed his mouth around the head and sucked off, realit, sucked again, working deeper each time. He couldn't get the full thing in, but what he did manage, he went wild with, chasing veins, kissing the head, pressing his tongue into the divot of his cockeye. His lips buzzed with a hazy pleasure that spread through his face. Every bit of him was radiant in cocksucker's delight, from the tips of his hair to the soles of his feet to his nuts swaying against Al's face, aching to cum.

Stubby nails scratched across his back, sending a shock racing through his core. Rin shivered, thrusting harder. He angled his head and saw Haru's hand poised in the middle of his spine. Haru swiped upward, raising streaks of red. His hand twisted deftly and plunged three fingers into Rin's asshole.

Cum tore out of him in one long, unbroken bolt. His mouth broke away, trailing threads of drool down his face in a guttural groan. His ankles crackled, rolling and flexing counter to the pulse of his cock, grinding against the back of Al's pretty blond head. Another long shot chased it and Al sucked it in without pausing for breath, arms rippling with strength as Rin breathed hot on his cock.

Once the flow tapered, Al went to the bedside and eased his grip. Rin braced himself against the mattress, dizzy. His nose burned as if he'd been snorting copper salts and there was a distinct pounding thump in his skull like he'd been bricked, but the hurt waned in the struggle to stay upright, knees slipping against Al's sweating chest. Everything floated. His head swiveled what little it could, mashing the scent of Haru's laundry detergent into his face. He pressed himself up onto his forearms to ask what was next, but before he could speak, Al pried his ass apart and let the mix of cum and spit dribble onto his hole. It spread outward, rolling over his crack, beads gliding down his spine.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Rin hissed, burying his face in the sheets.

Al's tongue pried into him as if searching for the sweet meat of a shellfish. He squirmed, moaning at the wet smack of Al's mouth against his ass. Between his arms, he could see an inverted Haru, hand wrapped around his own prick, red and dripping for him, them. Spit chilled on his flesh as Al worked, humming notes that shivered from his ass to his scalp, returning again and again to one playful pattern. It gusted, flickered, dipped along his tongue. Ha. Ru. Ka. Rin squeezed on it, trying to get it to stay still, but it drew away with a long, lingering slurp.

"This next." Al patted Rin's ass and rightended him onto the bed.

He beckoned Haru over and they kissed deep, exchanging ass and spit and seed. Lightheaded and delirious, Rin watched them, unable to remember seeing Haru so at ease with anyone. For a moment, Rin saw their future. Past the fucking and the cleanup, through goodnights and fumbling attempts at sharing a bed that Al was too tall for, to good morning kisses and quiet breakfasts and wandering the town trying to find something here worth showing. They drifted into one another the way a tributary fed the sea, smiling, murmuring words of love into each other's mouths, forgetting he was there. He wished they wouldn't remember.

Al glanced sidelong, smirking into their kiss. "Do you like that, _älskling?_ Do you like me having fun with your friend? He looks nice, doesn't he?"

Haru hummed agreement, fixing an eye on him. Their hands worked on each other's cocks as Al kissed down Haru's throat. Rounded bruises he hadn't noticed before stood out on their necks and shoulders. Matching clothes, matching bites. Figured.

 _"You want this?"_ Al gripped the base of his cock, wagging it. Rin sat up, letting his renewed erection speak for itself. _"You can't have this if you can't handle this."_ He pressed his fingertip to Haru's cockhead, peeling a thin strand of pre away.

_"I'd prefer to skip to the main attraction."_

_"You want it, you work for it. Whoever makes the other cum first gets it."_

Rin slapped the bed beside him. "Get over here so I can beat your ass."

Haru rolled his eyes and permitted Rin to push him to the mattress. Lube appeared from the bedside table and Al slicked up Haru's cock for him, layering kisses across his stomach as he stroked. When he was done, he ceded the floor and waited.

Rin straddled Haru in reverse cowboy, eyes locked on his prize. He remembered the hair elastic on his wrist and did up his ponytail, wiping down the sweaty back of his neck and settling onto his knees. He guided Haru's cock to his asshole, then sank onto the head. Not too different from his toys. He rode down the full length in one smooth movement and sat there a minute, adjusting. He rose again, gaze fixed steady on the beautiful cock before him. The head was intense redpink, ripe for the taking. Al wagged it again for him, solidifying his intention.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Sorry, Haru. You're cute, but you know I'm not going to miss out on this chance. Hurry and give it up!"

He slammed down. Light exploded over his vision. For a second, he thought he'd passed out, but there were Haru's hands on his waist, keeping him upright. A couple starstruck blinks later, he got to moving again, jackhammering against him. Haru couldn't be that far off, not when he'd been so hard, so close to bursting from simply watching.

"You like my ass, punk? It's good, right? Best fuckin ass you've ever had." He clenched his cheeks and rolled up on the next rise, wringing a hiss out of Haru. "Probably the only ass you've ever had."

Each slam quaked through him, dick jolting and bouncing sloppily, flicking pre across the both of them. A couple heady drips slung over to Al and the bastard cat-smiled and licked them up. Rin's cock throbbed with sheer want. He pounded against Haru, huffed his name until his thighs screamed for him to stop. Inside, Haru's cock stood as hard and unyielding as iron. His breathing had picked up and his face had gone a bit pink, but it betrayed nothing. Rin sat on his heels, rolling his hips, stroking up his thighs, his ass, his back, arms curving up behind his head. It was a first class show in his opinion: him as the star and Haru his pole. He grinned at Al, who watched him with cock in hand, lazily stroking. He could taste it in the back of his throat, he swore he could.

"Don't you want it, Haru? Don't you want to see him split me open, see that big fucking cock fuck me raw and think about how good you've got it? Wanna see my ass—mmmf!—see me dripping with cum? See his big fat dick—see him, see his—god, his cock—" He was losing the plot now. Focus. "Don't you want him to shut me up?"

Rin bit his tongue and picked the pace up again, but now Haru was meeting him stroke for stroke, jerking upward, stealing out yelps. Already his balls ached with the urge to blow. Al couldn't have been serious when he said he wouldn't fuck him if he came first. That would defeat the purpose of tonight. Sure, he sucked his dick a little, but he didn't even cum. It wasn't enough.

"Goddammit, Haru, hurry up and cum already!" He forced himself to slow down, to fight the pressure building at the base of his cock. "What, is your dick broke?"

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

"Gimmie your cum, please," he spat.

Haru pulled out and overturned him on his side, shoving his head into the mattress. Rin protested as Haru tucked an arm under his knee to get it out of the way and wedged himself against his back. He shoved his cock into Rin, laying him out in one blow. Rin's head lolled on the striped comforter as Haru rendered him helpless to his cock. There was one rule that had been ruthlessly drilled into their heads since they entered uni. In competition, no mercy. Haru pumped on with no sign of slowing. Rin stared up at Albert, watching with that sly smile of his, and knew there would be no help.

With that blessed warm hand, Al reached over and grabbed Rin by the cock. "It's okay. You can lose now."

"No no no no fuck!" Rin swatted at the hand, keening at the spurt of precum that slicked his fingers. The grip tightened. His cock pulsed against the creases of his hand. One yank would be all it took to undo him.

Haru pressed his mouth to Rin's ear, speaking in a low, stern voice that resonated in his marrow. "Ask nicely."

"Haru, please cum. Please, please, please, please, I want his dick. Please cum, I want it so bad. Haru, please!"

The grip released. Haru pulled out and pressed his cock into the crack of Rin's ass, sliding between the cheeks. His pace jacked up to a frantic rhythm, breath huffing hot in his ear, clawing at his leg. A hot squirt streaked up his spine, smearing along his ass as Haru rutted against him a few more times then stilled, riding out his orgasm. Rin tightened around him and Haru sighed into his neck, dragging his cock down to better, warmer places. The shots drew on and on, pulsing slower, smaller, and then it was done. Rin's heart stuttered to a steadier beat. He'd made it through.

Haru released his leg and dug his chin into Rin's shoulder. "Rin."

"What?"

"Rin."

"What, goddammit?"

Haru said nothing, dropping his arm around his waist and stubbornly pushing harder against him.

"You're not gonna cuddle the cum out of me."

"I could. Because it's you."

Rin elbowed him, hitting a sweet spot in the ribs. "God, shut up. My dick hurts. Cheating bastard."

Haru untangled himself and Rin shifted, pressing a finger to his asshole, hot and slick with cum and sweat and spit. He spread his legs so Al could see it glide in smooth as the proverbial machine, well oiled, ready for action.

_"You're a pervert."_

_"I'm a pervert who won. Gimmie."_

He rolled onto his back and spread. As Al steadied his cock at the hole before him, Rin reevaluated his personal friendship rankings. Sousuke and he were tight, brothers for life, but Sousuke didn't bring him big-dicked white boys to have sex with, so could he really be considered his _best_ friend?

The cock breached. He gritted his teeth, clawing at the sheets. Fuck, this was big. Bigger than anything he'd had. Bigger than anything he'd dreamed of taking. His hard-on flagged. Al paused. What seemed an eternity passed and the heat refused to subside. He could feel every minute pulse and throb, his breath, his shaking. He moaned, a low miserable sound, and felt that too. He laid paralyzed, trying to not breathe. Even a wisp of air was too much. Ass stuffed, packed, bursting at the seams; if he moved, he was going to explode.

His hand was pried out of the sheets and engulfed in warmth. He froze, trying to make sure he hadn't been split down the middle. The hot ache pulsed on, but it seemed he was alright.

When he opened his eyes, Haru laid beside him, holding his hand. Rin tightened his grip and the burn dulled. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He took a few breaths like that, acutely aware of how full he was. Having Haru before did make it easier. It was still a stretch, but not as bad as it could've been. He rested his free hand on his abdomen, trying to imagine how deep it would go. In. Out. In—Al moved forward, sliding a shred deeper, sending the burn crusading onward. He squeezed Haru's hand, hissing. They assured him that he was good, very good, he could do it, he could take it, and he relaxed again. Al burrowed deeper and deeper, shallow thrusts advancing centimetre by hard won centimetre.

"Jesus, Haru, is your asshole rubber? How do you take something like this on your first try?"

"It took a while." His hand laid atop the hand on Rin's stomach, smoothing over skin. "Longer than this."

 _"It must be a talent of his."_ Another breath deeper.

"Rin's very talented." Rin wished he could have that on record, play it over and over when he had an extra bad day in the pool. "Talented and hardworking."

 _"Talented, hardworking, handsome, and_ _**so good** _ _at taking cock."_

What tension remained in him went slack. Al slid the rest of the way in with a stupid little smirk on his stupid perfect face. Dammit. He hated being a slut for compliments.

"You got it all. You did it."

"Damn right I did," he muttered, soaking in the whole of him. "I'm a big boy, I take big dicks."

Al drew back and the intense, eyewatering pressure subsided and breathing came easier again. God, he was so thick. Might as well be a Boeing 737. Al played the gentleman, moving in broad, slow strokes. He should be happy. Instead, he squirmed in the sheets, frustrated. This polite shit was killing him. Haru peered down at him, curious, waiting.

Rin snatched Al by the back of the head and yanked him close. _"Come on, white boy. Show me why you're the champ."_

Both he and Haru smiled, the magic words received. Al grabbed his ankles and pushed them up til Rin's knees nearly met his shoulders. He slammed forward, shoving his stomach into his throat. Rin's eyes rolled back in their sockets. This was what he'd wanted. To get utterly wrecked.

"Fuck me fuck me fuck me," he begged, clawing at his ass as if he could open himself wider, devour the whole of him, stretching taut the swollen, tender flesh of his anus. "Fuck, it's so good."

Al swung his hips back and stabbed forward again, shutting him up. Rin coughed, choking on drool as his cock bounced against his abs, smearing them with pre that flowed smooth as silk. His head pulsed as he gasped for breath, drowning in sensation, and the world fell to nothing but the need grating his nerves like razor wire. A hand fisted in his hair and yanked, sending a flash of lightning to his nuts, and he writhed, muscles twisting contorting bones creaking he was so _close_ he could taste it, bitter on the tip of his tongue, cockhead swollen to the point of pain, balls on the verge of snapping. The hand yanked again and his dick spat so hard he thought his head had burst, splattering his face, body jerking and spasming, each bolt of cum blasting from some undiscovered core hidden in his nuts, deeper than he'd shot from before, asshole chewing and sucking with each shot and still the cock pounded inside him, and he heard a voice above him, a short gasp as hot seed slammed into his fuckhole, mixing, churning to froth. He sank through the bed, through the floor into a place unto itself and prayed with his broken voice and knew nothing.

When he came to, Haru's hand had gone all kinds of weird colours and Al's skin shimmered with sweat. His back was numb; his toes cramped. Cold air breezed through his wrecked anus. Globs of cum winked out when he shivered. He inhaled, throat rasping hot.

"Any pain?"

"No."

"Good." Al carded through his sweaty bangs. "In Sweden we call this _knullrufs_."

He _did_ dick Swedish into Haru. Grammar over blowjobs. Small talk during analingus. Rin enjoyed the vindication, but was too tired to follow the thought further.

The bed creaked as Al crowded on and reached for Haru. Rin tried to move out of their way, not wanting to interfere with their weird, post-fling bonding. They both laid a hand on his chest, halting his crawl.

"Nej, du också."

 

Rin scraped the cum out of his crack and sat on the toilet, head between his knees. This couldn't have been what Ma imagined when she saw him off. A solidarity party with his "friend". That was a division now. Friends remained the same as they'd always been—play sports, shoot the shit, hang out when they could. "Friend" was reserved for _that Haruka is very nice, isn't he?_ _You should bring him over more often. You're making sure to keep in touch with him, right? I hope you don't mind me sending him a New Year's card. It's okay if you want to watch the sunrise with someone else this year. I just want you to be happy, honey._

Sousuke was more blunt about it: _So, Haru?_ To which his response was an unequivocal, _No, fuck off_ and that was fine for a while, except that everyone who knew them kept dancing around it like it was inevitable. Like he'd never be able to find anyone else.

 _You wrote poems about him_ , Sousuke reminded him during a video call. _Really gay ones._

And yeah, he did, so what. It was elementary school.

Haru knocked on the door and invited himself in without waiting for an answer.

"I could've been taking a shit." Rin lifted his head but remained hunched. The house talked around them, creaks and rattles and hums punctuated by the soft pad of feet on tatami. "Remember when everybody assumed we were dating?"

Haru waited for him to get to the point.

"I don't know where this puts us."

"Does it matter?"

He didn't know what he'd expected. "Nah, I guess not. As long as we're still cool."

Haru dropped a bundle of clothes onto his lap, none of it his except the underwear. "We laid out a futon for you."

Rin nodded. Haru stepped forward, closing the space between their feet. Rin rested his forehead against Haru's stomach. Cold sweat on warm skin. Rising breath pushed, yielded, swelled again. A hand pressed into his hair, smoothing the tangles, stroking down his neck.

"You'll find someone."

Funny, how a few words could nearly break him. So funny he could just about cry.

Haru breezed past it, not minding his shudder. "Are you staying for breakfast?"

"Is it mackerel?"

"Al said fish isn't for breakfast, so he'll make something else."

Rin laughed at his blatant disappointment. "Is this the end of the all-mackerel diet?"

"No." The word flew out blunt, offended. "I'll find a way to adapt it."

"You gonna show him the mackerel cake?" When he saw him considering it, he added, "Haru, please, I don't want you getting dumped this soon. I need something to look forward to. I mean, not you getting dumped, but—you know."

"I don't."

"Forget it."

A couple days was enough to figure out if you could handle Haru or not. If Al had stuck around this long, there wasn't anything Haru could do to sabotage himself short of murder. He only hoped that, in years to come, they would invite him on that long, expensive flight, so he could suit up and lose himself in a country he didn't know, and witness a bounty as boundless as the sea, his own Romeo at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish writing this had only taken as long as A&H did www. Necessity demands I continue to be a force for AlHaru, so I'll accept AlHaru headcanons in lieu of normal comments should you find yourself otherwise lacking words.
> 
> Here's one for you: Over time Haru and Al's understanding of each other's languages gets to the point where instead of continuing to practice on each other, they revert to speaking their native tongue and find it perfectly comprehensible, to the eternal frustration of everyone around them.
> 
> Criticism is not only welcome, but encouraged, and helps me create better content in the future. Thanks for reading.  
> 8 June 2019  
> \- 匿名重工業


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